


everything & everything

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, POV Phil Coulson, Skoulson RomFest 2k15, Unresolved Sexual Tension, skoulsonfest2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is avoiding him - so maybe getting themselves locked inside a secret room is something he should be apologizing for.</p><p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k15 - Prompt: secret rooms in the Playground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything & everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



"I thought this was _your thing_."

"I was obviously not counting on it –"

"Why are you in here? You should be out there."

"You asked me to check something."

"Yeah but –"

She doesn't have a comeback. The kind of panic subdues a bit – just a bit and he realizes Skye has been on edge lately but this is unsual – and she crosses her arms, leaning against the shelves they were inspecting. She is glancing up at Coulson, like she is waiting for an apology. Well, he guesses it was technically his fault. And anything to lift her confrontational mood, really.

"Sorry about trapping us in a secret room."

"Well, that's – can't we call out?"

"No comms in here. They made it like that to avoid discovery if necessary."

"Who ordered something like that?" she asks.

"Fury."

"Ah, okay, that explains _that_."

Coulson realizes this is probably the longest conversation they've had in three weeks. The longest they've been alone since after Trip's funeral. It's been him eating at him pretty fast, he has to admit. At first he was okay with letting Skye have some space, because she needed, because it couldn't be easy to deal with all she had to deal. Then he started realizing she was doing it with him, mostly, no one else. And it was very much on purpose. She's not compromising missions or anything, just avoiding being in the same room with Coulson. Not talking to him about what's bothering her. He swore he wouldn't push her – he's not going to add to what Skye's already going through, he's not going to be another weight she has to carry – but he is finding keeping quiet about the way she's keeping her at arm's length very hard.

Now she literally can't because there's no room for an arm's length. And yes he admits part of the reason he asked her to help him doing inventary of the Playground's secret vaults and closets – "That doesn't sound like a job for the Director" she had tried to get out of it but he insisted – was so they could spend some quiet time together and maybe then Skye would let him in on what's going on with her. But mainly it was to have her do something normal, almost menial, definitely not-dangerous.

This wasn't meant to be another source of stress for her.

Though the reason for her jumpiness escapes him a bit. Skye doesn't like small spaces or locked rooms – she had said so herself after the whole ordeal with Ward, but she is normally able to handle it. It's never really been a problem.

He tries to shift in his position, get more comfortable, but he ends up invading his space again. She huffs.

"Can you – uh like not stand so close to me?"

"Skye, this is all the space there is, we're using all of it," he explains, getting a bit restless himself.

"Okay, okay, okay."

"I'm the Director of SHIELD, someone is bound to notice I'm not there. And Koenig knows we were taking inventory."

"Are we supposed to wait _that long_?"

He doesn't know what that long seems to mean for Skye, or why the mere idea of sharing physical space with him disgusts her these days.

"These rooms are supposed to be safe, that's the point."

"But they are supposed to have a way out, too."

"The blueprints were lost in the 90s, we don't know where the hidden button is."

"Someone should get around finding that out," Skye says, snorting.

"I was going to," he tells her. "But I've been a bit distracted fighting Nazis."

She frowns at him. Which, it's not bad at all, it's a reaction, it's an interaction they are having here, but then she pulls back, the same icy expression she's been wearing around him for weeks.

"I could try to vibrate the thing but I haven't started with the small stuff yet," she says, biting her lip, looking disappointed at herself. "I don't want to try without know and bring the ceiling down on us."

He sighs, running his hand through his hair – unfortunately there's not enough space to do so here, and his elbow connects softly with Skye's cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"This is not a joke. This is actually dangerous."

Then she is the one who makes a mistake, tries to turn her back to him and her hip bumps into his upper leg. 

"Damnit."

Somehing occurs to her. It's not just frustration or disgust, there's fear in her edginess.

"Are you worried about...?'"

"Of course I am," she snarls at him. "I'm still trying to get it under control. Getting trapped in a small space with another person is probably not a super-great idea at this point in my development."

He has thought about that as an explanation and it's true Skye is hesitant to get physically close to people these days, until she's sure she has accuracy in handling her own powers, but physical distance is not this.

"Just relax," he says, trying to sound like a caring and supportive boss, thinking she might need that, because she hasn't let him be that in a while. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

"Something bad has already happened," she tells him, piercing something inside of him. "Now I'm just trying not to involve other people in my drama. But you _locked us together_. That's just brilliant."

"Nothing bad is going to happen today," he repeats.

But he watches Skye shrink herself away from him and his words.

"Just – don't come near me," she says.

It feels personal. 

He's seen her be careful around Simmons, Hunter; relaxed around Fitz and May because they are good at keeping their distance. 

This is something else.

And she had let him touch her that night after the funeral, she had let him comfort her – or was she comforting him? he never knew – and then she just pulled away, all the way. And now she's looking at him like he's more than an obstacle in her training, she's looking at him like he's the enemy.

"What's going on, Skye?"

"What do you mean? I've just told you. I'm still a bit iffy around people."

"Not people," he says. " _Me_. You've been avoiding me for weeks. Ever since–"

Skye turns her face away from him, and it's not that easy to do in this small space.

"At least you're doing me the favor of not denying it. Good."

"Coulson."

"Be honest, Skye," he says, the irony of the role reversal not lost on him. "Have I done something wrong?"

She glances up, a bit wrong-footed. "God, no. That's what you think?"

"I just don't understand," he says, sound too hopeless even to himself. But he feels it – he feels hopeless.

"I'm trying to make sure no one gets hurt," she tells him.

"That's not what I asked, Skye."

"No," she admits, looking hopeless herself.

"It's okay," he says, lifting his hand to touch her shoulder, then remembering, pulling back.

Skye gives him a weirdly grateful look.

"I don't know how to explain it. I tried – to Simmons, but I don't think I did it right. These things I can do, this – Hunter calls it my Earthquake Mojo," she says, grimacing.

"I'm firing him, " Coulson tells her.

She manages a tiny smile. "The powers, whatever. They are connected to _everything_. I don't do it with my mind, or my emotions. It's everything. If I'm nervous, if I'm sad, if I'm worried, it makes everything come to the surface, and it's harder to control."

"What does that have to do with you keeping me out?"

"Everything," she says. "It's just a lot harder. With you all that everything becomes more... _everything_."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're a pretty smart guy, Coulson," she tells him, all sarcasm, one hand on her hip. "I'm sure you'll get there."

He brings his mouth against hers without thinking too much, because if Skye means what he thinks she means, if there's even a chance in hell – a chance _in hell_ , he likes the phrasing, he knows about hell, he and Skye have pulled each other out of there a couple of times. God, her mouth is so soft and responsive, she definitely meant what he thought she meant, fingers softly tracing the line of his jaw, drinking him in eagerly and expectantly. Everything, she had said. Everything. Yeah, everything is a pretty good definition of what he feels for her. They are on the same page again.

He takes her face in his hands, breaking the kiss for a moment to say her name like he wants to make sure she's here, Skye's reply is kissing him again. Her skin feels hot under his fingertips. He can feel her getting restless – her fingers over his chest, not knowing where to place them – getting agitated.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pulling away from her to make sure this is all right, all this, pushing the hair out of her face, a cliché move, he knows, but he has wanted to do that. He has wanted to stroke her cheek with his thumb like this too. She doesn't seem to mind.

"About the making out or about the possibility of bringing down the whole building on us?"

"Both," he says, a little breathless. "But I have to confess I'm more interested on the first answer right now."

His left hand trembles over her hipbone.

"Yeah, no, I'm pretty psyched about the making out."

He growls. "Skye."

"Sorry. I'm not great at explaining myself lately."

She lifts one hand to his chest in apology. Coulson looks at her in awe.

"You were compartimentalizing?" he offers, a hopeful knot in his throat.

So maybe ten minutes ago he didn't think this was a possibility, he just wanted Skye to talk to him again, but now he really wants it to be, and more than a possibility.

"Yes," she says, smirking knowingly. "I guess I was."

"When did you start fee–?" he starts.

" _You_?" 

"I'm your boss, I'm your –" whatever comes next is felled by her expression. "I'm not sure I can answer that question without hating myself."

Skye nods, messing his hair with her fingers. "Then, just, don't."

She smashes their mouths together again.

He guesses there'll be time for all that – confessions, or whatever they want to call it, the literary part of it; for now he is content to wrap his hands around Skye's waist and move his tongue against hers. It's juvenile, and not very professional, and they should probably be looking for a way out, but it's so joyful and he has so seldom felt this alive – and that's a lot coming from a guy who actually died once. The frustration of these past weeks must have been greater than he suspected, the powerlessness of seeing Skye struggle with something and not being able to help her and not being allowed to try, now relief seeps in, every muscle he didn't know was knotted untangling under Skye's sweet kiss. She presses herself against him so carefully, so lovingly, so open, that Coulson feels a pang of guilt about how young she is, how much she deserves, maybe more than he can give her, but then she runs her tongue against the roof of his mouth and he feels like an idiot for worrying about such silly stuff.

She twists her fist into his tie and pulls him down; Coulson gets the message, leans into the curve of her shoulder and starts sucking on her neck. Skye makes a struggling, falling sound.

"Is this too much?" he asks, tearing his mouth away and damnit, that was the hardest thing he's had to do in a while. "Are you – do you feel –?"

He doesn't know how to ask, running his index along her bare forearm.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I don't think we're – I actually feel pretty confident we're safe," and her smile is a bit shaky at the edges, that's to be expected, but it's also a bit hopeful and Coulson takes that one home.

"I don't want you to–"

"This is my call, I get that," Skye says. "I feel fine. Go wild."

He doesn't have to be told twice. Or he does, as it happens, because Skye has to tilt her head in a come-on movement before he starts it all again, slipping one hand around her back, covering her mouth with his once more. The way she already anticipates him, moves with him, yes, they are going to be spectacular together, he can tell already and the thought makes him more desperate for it, not-so-subtly grinding his hips against Skye, his cock already hard like a goddamn teenager. Skye inhales his name when she feels it, dropping her free hand – her grip around his tie is vicious, like she has him on a leash, and god that image just tugs at his body mercilessly – and cups his ass, urging him to come closer. There's no closer, and it's kind of funny because she had complained so much about the lack of space before. He grabs her face with one hand, touches her hair, and pushes his thumb into her mouth while still kissing her.

Skye moans into his mouth, his finger, and pulls him backwards with her, awkwardly. He loses balance and has to support himself by pressing his hand against the wall in order not to fall with her subordinate in his arms.

They hear a click – then the loud whirring of the heavy door opening. They watch it in amazement and dismay.

"You've got to be kidding me," Skye says, her mouth still touching Coulson's.

"Told you this was my thing."

"Great timing, Director."

"I know of more secret rooms around here," he offers, looking bashful.

Skye fixes him a decided look. "How many?"

" _Many_."


End file.
